Torrent of Tears (Scourge Survivor Series Book 3)(11)
The hollow thud Balor’s head made when it landed in the catch-basket triggered a violent writhing in my belly. A cold sweat broke over my skin and I rolled to the side.
Freya squealed. “Oh, that’s disgusting. Do get up, so we can get out of here.” Skirts rustled and she flitted to the other side of the room.
I blinked, my head hanging forward, my watery eyes locked on a pair of stylish charcoal dress shoes splattered with taco nachos extra jalapeno. Oh gods, I’d puked on the shoes of a total stranger. Steeling my insides, I forced myself to sit up and . . . holy gods.
Highbornes notwithstanding, this guy in grey slacks and a crisp white shirt was hotness personified. Not a pretty-boy. He was all hard, masculine lines and strong features. His sure grip secured my shoulders and held me over the edge of the settee. “How are you then, Princess. Better?”
He righted my position, propping me against the backrest of the gold velveteen seat and squatted down beside me. “Can I get you a drink?”
I accepted the handkerchief he offered and wiped my eyes and mouth. “Yes, thank you. Something strong. Sorry about your shoes.”
He chuckled and stepped away. “I’ve suffered worse indignities. Don’t worry about that.”
A clink of bottle kissing glass rang out and then a tumbler with amber liquid pressed into my palm. Whiskey burned its way down my esophagus and warmed my insides as I tipped my head back. “Again,” I said, holding up the empty glass to my host with the loose brown waves. “And thanks.”
“Not a problem.” he topped me up and set the bottle on the dainty side table.
“Where are we?”
“One of the Queen’s townhouses,” he said. “It was close when you collapsed and I have a key. Master Constable Estes has gone to fetch you a carriage. He should be back any time.”
I glanced to the front window of the parlor. It was full dark now, the swirling pink sky of the afternoon killing gone and forgotten. I ran a shaky hand down my leg until I found the nylon hilt of my Guardian, sheathed to my thigh beneath lavender silk. I had no intention of plunging it, though I would muster the strength if needed. My double-edged blade functioned more like a messed-up security blanket.
“And who are you?” I asked, tipping back the remaining whiskey.
“Rowan—”
“The carriage is here.” Freya whirled over, grabbed me by the elbow and dragged me half staggering off the settee. Before I could think to object, we were across the foyer and through the door. Unsteady as I was, I had visions of tripping down the steps and taking a header right into the large circular fountain in the center of the posh courtyard. Thankfully, I managed to avoid joining life-sized bronzes of the Fates and escaped at least one humiliation for the evening.
“Love, is it, Princess?” Rowan’s silky timbre had me glancing over my shoulder. The guy leaned casually on the jamb of the townhouse doorway and crossed his feet at the ankles like he was posing for a GQ cover. “Well, it certainly wasn’t Compassion, was it? Pleasant evening, Princess Grace. I hope you feel better.”
“Lexi,” I said, lifting my arm to return his wave. “Please, call me Lexi.”
The carriage was more covered Jet Ski than Cinderella’s coach. The Master Constable propped a steadying, black boot on the resin edge and helped Freya and then me inside. His ebony gaze was intense, his touch too familiar yet polite.
I ducked under the tasseled cloth canopy and sat in the molded leather seats as the vessel pitched and righted itself. I was numb. My head sloshed as our transport swung into the canal proper.
Everything around me seemed foreign. Had I really been here before? Had I walked these streets as a little girl? Why couldn’t I remember my childhood? Even now that I was learning about my past, I had no recollection of the time before Reign took me in at Haven.
Reign. My stomach rolled again and I gritted my teeth. I wanted my dad more at that moment than I ever had. But he wasn’t my dad. My dad was that nice man who just—I cut off that thought and covered my mouth with the handkerchief fisted in my hand. I hadn’t realized I still had it, but was thankful. It carried Rowan’s cologne on it and I focused on that sexy-spice until the fall-apart threatening to overtake me knew enough to stand down.
“Would you like to be dropped at the main entrance or the private residences?”
Freya looked me over and huffed. “Are you serious? I can’t introduce her to the Queen looking like she’s going to vomit on her. Take us to the residence.”
“As you wish, Princess.”
I drew a deep breath of warm sea night and sighed. “Does it really matter what I look like? After twenty-four years, wouldn’t she want to see me regardless? I’m her daughter.”
Freya laughed and shook her head. “No. You’re her offspring.”
The carriage lurched back as we sped between two manned guard towers and neared the castle. The metal walls of the royal residence looked slick and foreboding against the gleam of the mountain stone. Moonlight spilled through the dome above, illuminating a natural phosphorescence of the stone and causing it to glitter like the tunnels of Dragon’s Peak.
Gods, it seemed like a lifetime had passed since Castian sent Jade and me to release the Highbornes from exile. What would they be doing now? Had they realized I was missing?
The canal widened and we merged with the arching waterway that encircled the front of the bronze palace. And again with the black armored guards. “What’s with all the military force? Are there security issues I should know about, Estes?”